Title: Dying
Summary: I'll always be here, holding together my family. Molly-centered. Monologue.
A.N: Monologue-ish.
I am always here, to hold together my family.
I always was there, always holding together my family.
Arthur still brought me flowers, though they wilted and became more sad looking as we became poorer. I didn't care, though. I was happy with the deadest daisy.
Aunty Muriel seemed mortified when she found out I did all the cleaning myself; "Why don't you get a house-elf, Molly? You can sit back and put your feet up once in a while." She'd hastily added, "You know you don't have to pay them."
But I could never call a house a home if another being was cleaning it. I worked on my house. I fed my household. Doing all the work was just part of being, well, me. I wouldn't have it any other way.
The second time I ever cried for longer than an hour was when Percy left, practically disowning his family, the people who'd brought him up, for the lying, decieving Ministry.
The first time I ever cried for longer than an hour, was when I screamed bloody murder at Fred and George, right before they went to the Quidditch World Cup. Right before the Death Eater's made their stand. Alone in the house, I sat, staring at the clock. All of my family, all the hands reading their names were firmly set on "away". I couldn't shake the stirring feeling in my stomach that eventually it was going to tick to "dead". And the last thing I'd ever done to to those two ridiculous, irrating twins was shout at them.
I nearly squeezed the air out of both their lungs when they arrived home, smiling, cheerful, barely scratched.
They would all admit it, I was what held together the Burrow. Emotionally as well as physically. Arthur panicked if a stair gave in or a bannister fell; he didn't know how everything worked, where everything worked. I once let Charlie cook a meal the muggle way - he nearly burnt the place down. That was the last time, ever, ever, that I let anyone besides Fleur in my kitchen.
Fleur. Oh, beautiful Fleur.
When Bill first announced his relationship to the French, exquisite Fleur, I laughed. Along with Fred, George and Ron. Ginny was the only one who patted Bill on the back in gratitude, Arthur seemed stunned by Fleur's presence, and Charlie just grinned appreciatively. Fleur seemed reproachful. "What are you laughing for, Mizz Weazley?" She drawled in her heavy accent. "D-do you s'ink, that Bill eez...joking?"
And with that, we stopped laughing instantly. How on earth the Veela-like, silvery hared Fleur had become attracted to skinny, lanky, gawky Bill, no one ever knew, but there most certainly was nothing to joke about it.
Meeting Fleur's parents before the wedding was like entertaining royalty, but nevertheless, it was lovely, and almost completely put my mind off what I knew was going to come. I was desperate to keep Ron at home, and Harry and Hermione would have to stay here too, if needs be. I did everything I could, but the spattergroit-disguised ghoul in Ron's attic remained, and I knew it would happen soon.
I didn't expect it to happen right at the wedding. The third time I ever cried for more than an hour. Ron apparated right away when the wedding was attacked. Not selfishly of course, never selfishly. For the sake of his best friend, Harry Potter. Oh, I loved Harry like another son, but for one small moment I'd never hated him more.
And then Fred died.
Fred died, and a part of me died with him.
I'd never cried as much in my life.
But I'm still here, always here. To hold together my family.